


For me formidable

by HistoireEternelle



Series: The songs that rhythm our life [2]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: But he was an ass to Martin, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Franglais, Frenglish, I actually like Sergio, M/M, Song Lyrics, Song fic, Sorry?, Whitney Houston has a cameo, french song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24555364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoireEternelle/pseuds/HistoireEternelle
Summary: They would pick the cheesiest song they could find — no matter the language — and would serenade each other at the most untimely moment.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa & Palermo | Martín Berrote, Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: The songs that rhythm our life [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774768
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	For me formidable

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to make a series out of that first fic. I had so much fun writing this. 
> 
> You can fin the song [HERE](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nz-dCGNcfNM)

The briefings Sergio was giving them were interminable. The man was taking his role as Professor way too seriously and Martín was bored. His rules were stupid, and Martín knew that the one about relationships was payback from Sergio because Andrés had imposed Martín upon his brother. It had been the only condition for Andrés to be part of his brother’s plan. Martín had to be part of it too. So Sergio had added that stupid rule about no personal relationships between the members of the gang as retribution. As if Denver being Moscow’s son and, most ironically, Sergio and Andrés being brothers, weren’t “personal relationships”. And he didn’t want to start on Tokyo and Rio fucking every single night without Sergio batting an eye. But the moment Martín’s eyes would linger a second too long on Andrés, Sergio would bitch about it for hours.

Martín was pissed. He still didn’t understand why Sergio hated him that much. Sure he had been erratic and self destructive before, but since he got together with Andrés, he had calmed down a lot and was behaving himself most of the time. Maybe it was the fellatio proposal that didn’t agree with Sergio’s prudishness? Or maybe it was because the Professor didn’t get any? If that was the problem, and Martín wasn’t mistaken -- and he was rarely so --, Nairobi wouldn’t be against messing around with their beloved Professor.

They were all sitting at the table in front of the house they were living in in Toledo, more or less enjoying their breakfast, Martín didn’t like to be so far away from Andrés -- Berlin, he had to remind himself -- but Sergio had been very explicit when it came to them, when Tokyo started talking. He usually managed to tune her out, but the word “party” caught his ear and he decided, for once, to listen to what she was saying.

  
“We should have a party!” she said. “Since we can’t get out of here, we should go get some booze and have fun.”

“Tokyo…” the Professor groaned.

“Come on Professor!” she whined. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, you chose that location so we could practice shooting, so the music wouldn’t be a problem. You can’t keep us locked down working 24/7. We need to blow some steam off or we’ll end up at each other's throat,” she explained somewhat calmly with a side glance to Berlin. 

  
And somehow, Sergio seemed to consider the proposition. 

Martín held his breath, waiting for the Professor to reach a decision. He had had something planned for a while and alcohol and music were exactly what he needed to enact his plan. It had become some sort of game between him and Andrés since they got together. They would pick the cheesiest song they could find -- no matter the language -- and would serenade each other at the most untimely moment. So far, Andrés was winning by bursting into song in the middle of their last heist, but Martín had found the perfect song and singing it at the party was the perfect opportunity. Most of the gang wouldn’t understand the lyrics but Andrés would. So would Sergio and that would be the icing on the cake. Martín suppressed a snort at the image drawing itself in his mind, Sergio would be livid. 

  
“Alright. Alright!” the Professor finally conceded, shaking his head -- having to push his stupid glasses back up his nose at the movement -- and cheers erupted around the table. “Tokyo, Berlin, you’re on alcohol run,” Sergio added and Martín frowned. “The others in the house, we still have work to do.” Sergio got up expecting everybody to follow him.

  
Most of the gang did, but Berlin and Palermo stayed on their seat, exchanging a long look, the silent conversation between them perfectly clear. They didn’t like to be apart. And Berlin going with Tokyo wasn’t something they appreciated. The girl was unpredictable and would get rid of him in the blink of an eye if she felt like it. And Andrés didn’t like to leave Martín alone with Sergio. He wasn’t actually bullying him, but the way he would sometimes look at Martín disapprovingly was something Andrés was fed up with. He wasn’t explicitly rude or mean to Martín but his feelings about the man were clear. He didn’t like him and didn’t want him here. Too bad, Martín thought.

They exchanged a soft smile before Martín left the table, his fingers brushing Andrés’ shoulder on his way to the house. It would only take a few hours to get the alcohol and some food and Martín was a big boy, he could manage a few hours without Andrés.

They spent the time waiting for Berlin and Tokyo to come back making a playlist for the evening, even though Sergio had explicitly forbidden them to do so. Of course Martín had made sure to add a few significant songs to the mix. He couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of Andrés’ face when he would hear the first notes of  _ Et l’on n’y peut rien _ . If the others found weird he would add French songs to the playlist, Martín didn’t catch it, his mind already on his plan for the evening. If he played his cards well, he would piss Sergio off and end up in Berlin’s bed tonight. A win win sort of situation.

Once Berlin and Tokyo got back loaded with food and bottles of alcohol, Sergio insisted they go to the classroom and work on the heist for the rest of the day. Everybody grumbled half heartedly but complied. The Professor had given them the next day off to recover from the debauchery he was sure would take place tonight, after all.

After endless hours of reviewing things they knew by heart, the sun was finally setting and everybody was getting ready to drink their ass under the table. Sergio still tried to lecture them on how stupid it was, but he got rapidly shut down. Even Moscow sent him a reproachful glance. The children had to let some steam out and if the Professor didn’t see it he was even more disconnected to the world than everybody thought.

The party was going well, booze was flooding and everybody had fun -- except for Sergio of course. He had tried to leave early on but Andrés had stopped him and Martín could see them talking with a glass of expensive wine in hand. He shook his head at the sight before going back to dancing with the other members of the gang. He was gulping vodka down when he heard the first chords of  _ Et l’on n’y peut rien _ and, suddenly, Andrés laugh was filling the night and Martín couldn’t stop himself. He had to see him. So he turned his head toward the love of his life and locked eyes with him, sharing a smile. He could see Andrés’ lips mouthing the words of the song, his eyes never leaving Martín’s. And Martín was laughing, happy at his lover’s reaction. But it was only the first part of the plan. Once the song had ended, Andrés went back to his conversation with his brother but not before raising his glass to Martín, acknowledging the point he had just scored on their little game. If he thought it was the only nod he would get this evening, he was mistaken, Martín thought happily. 

A few minutes passed, Spanish pop songs blaring through the courtyard when the first notes of  _ I wanna dance with somebody _ started and Martín froze for a second before turning sharply to Berlin. The man was looking at him, a smug smile on his lips, seeming utterly proud of himself. Martín blushed at the memory of when the song became much more than a simple song for them.

It was the one Andrés had sung in the middle of their last heist. They had ended up twirling around the auction house at the rhythm of Andrés’ voice. It was one of Martín’s best memories of their time together.

He watched as Andrés said a few words to his brother before getting up and joining them on what had become the dance floor, singing along the lyrics. Martín wanted to close the distance between them, take him in his arms and never let go. But now wasn’t the time. He still had to execute his plan and then everything would be clear for everyone and Sergio be damned, he didn’t plan on sleeping alone in his bed anymore.

Andrés was about to leave the dance floor when the song Martín had been waiting for started to play.

  
“Hey, Berlin!” he called a mischievous smile on his lips. He saw the look of panic in Andrés’ eyes when he turned to look at him.

“Don’t” the man said, but of course Martín didn’t obey and started singing.

_  
You are the one for me  
_ _ For me, for me, formidable  
_ _ You are my love very  
_ _ Very, very, veritable  
_ _ Et je voudrais pouvoir enfin te le dire  
_ _ Te l’écrire  
_ _ Dans la langue de Shakespeare _

  
Everybody around them had stopped dancing and all eyes were on them. Martín was slowly walking to Andrés, his eyes full of happiness and love.

_  
My daisy, daisy  
_ _ Daisy, désirable  
_ _ Je suis malheureux  
_ _ D’avoir si peu de mots  
_ _ A t’offrir en cadeau _

  
Martín was facing Andrés now, his clear voice ringing in the still night around them. Their eyes locked and he forgot they weren’t alone. He smiled softly, his hand cupping Andrés cheek and the man closed his eyes, leaning into the touch a soft smile -- mirror of the one on Martín’s lips -- lighted his features. 

_  
Darling I love you, love you  
_ _ Darling I want you  
_ _ Et puis c’est à peu près tout  
_ _ You are the one for me  
_ _ For me, for me, formidable _

  
Andrés stare was burning him from the inside when he finally opened his eyes. Fire was burning in his dark irises, promises of an unforgettable night. But Martín wasn’t done yet.

_  
You are the one for me  
_ _ For me, for me, formidable  
_ _ But how can you see me  
_ _ See me, see me, si minable  
_ _ Je ferais mieux d’aller choisir mon vocabulaire  
_ _ Pour te plaire  
_ _ Dans la langue de Molière _

  
He saw the cloud tarnish the brightness in Andrés’ eyes, no doubt at the self depreciation in Martín’s voice when he sang that chorus. It was an echo of how pathetic he had been for years before their relationship evolved.

_  
Toi, tes eyes, ton nose  
_ _ Tes lips adorables   
_ _ Tu n’a pas compris  
_ _ Tant pis  
_ _ Ne t’en fais pas et  
_ _ Viens-t’en dans mes bras _

  
Martín tenderly kissed each part of Andrés’ face the song was describing, finally brushing his lips in an aerial kiss, his accent thicker than usual because of the emotions he could feel rising in his chest, before taking Andrés in his arms. Molding his body to his soulmate’s, he could hear the catcalls in the back and was pretty sure he heard Sergio groan at the display. But they didn’t give a fuck about the others, he finally had Andrés in his arms and he wasn’t ready to let him go. He crooned the next lines of the song in Andrés’ ear.

_  
Darling I love you, love you  
_ _ Darling I want you  
_ _ Et puis le reste on s’en fout  
_ _ You are the one for me  
_ _ For me, for me, formidable _

  
He could feel Andrés’ hand gripping his hips, pulling him even closer, pushing his hardness against his lower abdomen, sending shivers down his spine. He was ready to be taken to bed, but he still had one last chorus to sing. He couldn’t let Andrés win by making him stop singing before the end. It was one of the unspoken rules of their little game. No matter what, they had to finish the song.

_  
Je me demande même  
_ _ Pourquoi je t’aime  
_ _ Toi qui te moques de moi et de tout  
_ _ Avec ton air canaille  
_ _ Canaille, canaille  
_ _ How can I love you? _

  
Andrés’ lips crashing against his in a messy kiss cut the last note of the song and Martín couldn’t help the moan that left his throat when he felt Andrés’ hips push against his in the most sensual way. When they broke the kiss, still linked by their foreheads pressed together, they heard the cheers of the crowd -- and a really believable retching sound coming from Tokyo no doubts -- and the very distinctive voice of Nairobi yelling something along the lines of “Oh my God, that was fucking hot!”

Their embrace still tight, not wanting to expose their bodies' reaction to the others, Martín looked over Andrés shoulder, meeting Sergio's furious glare.

“I’m pretty sure your brother wants to kill me,” Martín breathed in Andrés’ ear, making sure nobody but him would hear him.

Andrés looked over his shoulder and sent a smug smile to his brother before turning back to Martín to devour his mouth in a searing kiss. It had been way too long since they’ve been that close.

“I think it’s our cue to retire to bed,” Andrés said when they parted, taking Martín’s hand and linking their fingers, before leading him to the house.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow,” Sergio growled between clenched teeth when they walked by him.

“No, we won’t,” Andrés replied matter of fact, his arms curling around Martín’s shoulders, pulling him closer against his own body and kissed his hair in a display of possessiveness. He was tired of his brother disapproval. He was tired of hiding his feelings for Martín knowing how much it hurt the other man.

“Come on,” he traced Martín’s ear with his lips before disappearing into the house.

Behind them, they could hear the rest of the gang swarming Sergio with questions.

“You were magnificent tonight,  _ mi amor _ ,” Andrés breathed, closing the door of his room behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know if you'd like to see more of their little game and maybe suggest a few songs?
> 
> If you want to talk, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://histoireeternelle.tumblr.com/)


End file.
